


Like Dandelions in the Wind

by PoeticMilk



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Developing Love, Friendship, Issues, Kleptomania, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Pickpockets, Problems, San is a pickpocket, Smoking, Smut, Stealing, Strong Language, Swearing, dont worry ateez survive, little adventure, side character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:34:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28241727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoeticMilk/pseuds/PoeticMilk
Summary: San was merely a conman and a fraud. He was nothing but a fragile shell that tried to conceal its vulnerability with deception and lies. But Wooyoung was different. His smile was as beautiful as it was contagious, like a dandelion in the wind.Its petals trembling, drenched in blood.Or: San likes to steal things and Wooyoung just so happens to have a sparkly bracelet.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Comments: 12
Kudos: 45





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Well hello there ♡  
> Is this a good idea? We'll see. I haven't forgotten about other stories but this idea just wouldn't get out of my mind!!  
> And I mean it's Woosan, am I right?
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this! You can listen to the playlist of this story [here!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0Wc0xQKJxd4OLBJjXlOU3Y?si=0vRgHEA_Rhqd_QrtT-xVpQ) I'll probably be adding songs as the story evolves! 
> 
> Please also watch the tags from time to time as I might be adding some there as well!
> 
> BUUUT I have absolutely nothing else to say besides ✨ have fun! ✨

❊ • ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴅᴀɴᴅᴇʟɪᴏɴꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴᴅ • ❊

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪ

_He should’ve never smiled back at him that day._

  
  


A content smile was lingering on his lips, eyes roaming about the room in search for something interesting to look at. But the warm lights inside the restaurant made him feel sleepy, so much that he feared he would doze off if he closed his eyes now. He twirled the wine glass between two fingers and watched the last drop of red liquid spin around, sending him into a calm trance. He wondered why eating was such a tiresome task, he felt stuffed like a teddy bear and yet somehow it was the best he’d felt all week. Maybe this wasn’t a trance, maybe he was just high on a substance called money.

“I’m gonna explode if I eat another crumb.”

San laughed at his friend’s remark, feeling much the same. Their table was full of empty plates and glasses, the smell of alcohol mixed with food was sickening yet so welcoming. San both hated and loved it here, he felt at home in an unfamiliar place where he pretended to be welcomed when he knew he really wasn’t.

He looked up to his friend, he was leaning against the chair with his head tilted back like a dead person. The food had defeated him, he’d stood no chance and San was about to lose the battle too.

After a moment of comforting silence, his friend rose from the dead and slapped his flat hands on the table in a suggestion to go, letting the plates and glasses shake in fear at his resurrection. The people in the restaurant turned their heads towards them, sneered at his friend in confusion but he ignored all of that like a professional and it felt as though it was only them.

“Let’s pay,” Jongho said as he turned to his left, searching for his wallet inside the pocket of his jacket that was hanging over his chair. San’s eyes followed his movements attentively while fidgeting with his shoelaces until they came loose. Then he grabbed his friend’s wrist, their eyes met and San put on a charming smile.

“I’ll pay. You paid last time.” A wide smile appeared on his friend’s lips and he gladly let go of his jacket. 

“See, that’s why I like you, hyung.” He said as San got up from his chair and carefully smoothed down his suit. “It’s always a give-and-take with you.”

San just shrugged. “You know me.”

He walked around the table slowly, his fingertips tracing along its edge. When he got behind his friend he stopped and bent down, hands on his shoelaces. His eyes quickly rushed to his friend’s jacket, left pocket, he nodded slightly. Then he looked up, green light.

When he finished tying his shoes he slipped two fingers inside his friend’s pocket and there he could feel the leathery material of the wallet brush against his fingertips. He quickly grabbed it and as he stood up again took it out and slipped it inside the pocket of his own pants. Jongho turned around, a confused expression on his face that San was quick to dismiss by offering him an innocent smile.

“Shoelaces came loose.”

A nod from Jongho, then he turned around and San felt a rush of excitement flood through his body. It felt like a fresh breeze, like chewing spicy gum and inhaling.

As San walked up to the cash register, he took out the wallet again and opened it. The sweet credit card he’d targeted peaked out a little and was smiling at him seductively so that he didn’t have a choice but to smile back as he freed it from its leather cage. He held it out to the female employee at the counter and leaned against it, eyes examining the wallet. 

A loyalty card from Starbucks? San scoffed. He absolutely wouldn’t have guessed that Jongho liked Starbucks coffee, but now that he was thinking about it, it kind of made sense. Another coffee and he’d get one for free. Neat. 

While the order went through, San looked back at his friend only to find him hypnotised by his phone, his fingers furiously tapping the screen. Sometimes it seemed like he was watching Jongho live inside this beautiful, soundproof bubble. He felt as though he should be the one to rescue him from the fantasy he lived in, but how was he supposed to do so when he also lived inside a deceitful pretense of a world? He should’ve been the one to rescue.

“Thank you very much and good evening.”

San looked back at the employee who was holding out the card to him with both of her sweet hands, her rosy lips displayed a sincere smile. San quickly took the card and smiled back at her before returning to his table, letting the wallet elegantly slide back into his friend’s jacket pocket. He gave his friend a firm pat on the back and a glimpse over his shoulder and at his phone display that showed him the time. He bit his lips, he’d messed up again, time had run away from him too quickly.

“Let’s go.”

San left the restaurant without waiting for his friend to slip into his jacket. When he stepped outside, the air was fresh but not cold, in fact it was quite warm and San realized he could’ve even gone without a jacket or should've chosen the vest when he had had the chance. Two seconds later his friend appeared next to him and when San looked down at him he couldn't detect his wallet in his left pocket anymore, instead his friend had shoved it into one of the front pockets of his trousers. It made him smile a little. 

He saw him shove his hands into his pockets while balancing the weight of his body on the heels of his neatly polished shoes, Crockett & Jones, and when he looked up again, the colorful street lights dyed the skin around his face blue and red and green. He looked pretty.

“Another drink?”

Now his friend looked at him, there was a sincere smile on his face that let him seem like an innocent teenage boy or at least someone society would dub normal. Someone like San, maybe, but more normal.

“Can’t.” San shook his head but almost against his will. He would’ve given everything for just some beer mixed with soju. Nothing fancy, just something nasty that could get him drunk quickly. “I still got some things to do.”

Jongho sighed dramatically, almost as though he’d just gotten rejected by the love of his life. But the disappointment in his face quickly vanished again like it had never been there in the first place and he offered San an understanding smile. Someone else he could use as a drinking buddy must’ve come to his mind, someone who could _actually_ buy him a drink. 

“Guess I’m gonna have to find another victim to get drunk, hm?” Jongho smirked and grabbed San’s hand, squeezing it for a second before releasing it again. His hands were warm. almost a little sweaty but they always were, even in winter. He then waved at San and while passing him gently boxed against his shoulder in a friendly goodbye. San turned around, observed how he amalgamated with all the other people in the streets until he vanished like a ghost. 

_Just one of those days._

San bit his lip to withhold a melancholic sigh. The night was warm and loud, still young and full of surprises and yet all he dreamt of was his couch and a cold beer in his hand while watching cable TV with a show about an old countryside couple having a rough time maintaining their farm. He dreamt of falling asleep with the beer can still firmly clutched in his hand and waking up ten hours later with the sun shining through the window and right into his face, kissing his cheeks and blinding him. He would complain about it, swear at the sun and yet he wouldn’t be able to hide the little smile on his dry lips. 

Now he did sigh.

He dug inside his pocket and fishes out the little Starbucks loyalty card from before. Maybe he was a bad person for taking it, maybe Jongho didn’t care because he could probably buy the whole Starbucks chain if he wanted to. 

And sometimes San just enjoyed a little coffee for free.

He shoved the card back inside and then looked up, eyes moving around and scanning the crowded area. His attention was caught by a young couple approaching him from the left, they were laughing and the boy had his arm tightly wrapped around his girlfriend’s shoulder so that not even a feather could fit between them. But San’s eyes were fixed at the boy’s jacket, one corner of an Esse cigerette packet was peeking out from inside the pocket, shyly flirting with San. It was one of those puffy jackets that the boy clearly wasn’t wearing because he was cold but because it was expensive and looked stylish. It was made out of a shiny silver fabric that reflected all the different lights shining at it like a damn disco ball. The only disadvantage it had, in the boy’s case that is, was that its pockets had no zippers. They were like an open invitation for San’s greedy fingers, so much that it was almost dissatisfactory. 

But only almost.

San’s eyes were fixed at the couple as they came closer, one finger was scratching his right brow but it wasn’t even itchy. Just as they passed him San stepped forward a little and grabbed the cigarette pack by the corner and let it slip out like butter before sneakily shoving it into his own pocket. Then he started walking into the opposite direction, didn’t look back once and just kept going and the beating of his heart was quiet and even. Nothing had happened. 

He was disappointed to see that there were only seven cigarettes left inside the box when he opened it. He lit one of them with his yellow lighter that had a smiley face on it and shoved one end between his lips. He took a deep pull and let the smoke infiltrate his lungs before releasing it again through his nose, watching it dissolve in the air. San didn’t like the taste of cigarettes but it had become a habit. Stolen cigarette boxes were his first prey, they were easy to abstract and after a while he’d accumulated a pile of half empty and sometimes even full boxes. He started smoking to get rid of the cigarettes, then he did it because he was bored and after a while it had become a nasty habit. He’d never really gotten used to the taste but it was addictive in a way that let him live on in the past. Things hadn’t been inherently better then but it felt good, nostalgic, and it almost made him forget the here and now.

He buried the cigarette box inside his breast pocket where it was warm and cozy, and the weird mixture of cigarette smell with the expensive perfume that he’d put on surrounded him like an invisible cloud, stuck to his clothes and hair like glue, contaminating him. The odour penetrated his nostrils with every step he took, drowning him in a familiar smell.

He let his free hand sink back into the depths of his pockets, his fingers brushing along the cold steel that covered the blade of his butterfly knife, something San often liked to refer to as his best friend when he was alone and talking to himself. 

The cozy music that had played inside the fancy restaurant got quieter and quieter as he moved away from it until it eventually got drowned out by the loud noises coming from every direction. He left the luxurious restaurants and shops behind him until it were only clubs and pubs. Chains of intertwined drunk people chanting incomprehensible lyrics to the latest pop song passed him left and right, sometimes the singing suddenly got interrupted because one of them tripped, causing a chain reaction that ended with all of them tumbling over. Laughter, then the singing continued. Music was blasting from the clubs so loudly that one could think it was actually an outside concert. The masses of people blocking the streets only contributed to the illusion. 

San’s eyes were everywhere where he could detect movement. Sometimes he felt like some kind of machine, a robot that scanned its environment for people flashing up red, identifying them as targets. He saw fingers with engagement rings on them, wrists cuffed by bracelets and watches and there were hands carrying Louis Vuitton or Gucci bags stuffed with phones and wallets. They left San drooling and yet he kept his hands to himself, his fingers squeezing the cigarette until it bent and wrinkled. He blew out the smoke in front of his eyes in order to blur his vision, to get rid of all those incentives around him.

When the area got quieter and uglier, and fewer people surrounded him, it almost felt as though the night had suddenly become a little colder. It was a change of atmosphere, it was almost sad.

He looked up at the blinding neon sign right above the door, it was pink and said _midnight karaoke._ The sigh that left his lips was loud when he let the shrunken cigarette drop to the ground, killing it with the ball of his foot. He wrapped his hand around the door handle, pushing the door open halfway—and then he stopped. He looked down at his feet and lifted the one that had just murdered his cigarette. The way it was staring at him filled his body with guilt. Then there was another sigh, almost as though he was annoyed at himself. He let go of the handle and bent down to pick up the dead cigarette. Then he buried it among its other comrades in the ashtray cemetery that was placed between the door and a trash can. 

“Oh, just what happened to you, San?” He murmured to himself, biting down at his lower lip.

The second he stepped into the karaoke bar, he was greeted by familiar eyes. They were the eyes of a judging mother—except it were those of his disappointed friend. Oh, he just never failed to make San feel at home. 

“Wow, only 20 minutes late today, I’m impressed.” His friend’s eyes followed him attentively while San approached him, took off his jacket and hung it up on the coat rack next to the counter. “You could’ve at least texted me.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.” San said, trying not to sound too defensive but he knew he was failing. He felt the urge to say that it wasn’t his fault when he knew very much that it was no one’s fault but his. “I thought I’d make it on time.”

Silence. A pair of eyes still lingering on San, on his clothes and accessories. San was already clever enough to avoid his glance in the belief that he could escape his judgment and the feeling of being drowned in guilt, tricking him into believing that he did something wrong. San preferred avoiding his problems until they either solved themselves or vanished miraculously, some of those problems he’d been ignoring for years and years now. 

“You reek.”

“Of what, alcohol? Smoke?” San took the little name tag that he’d left on the counter the day before and pinned it to his shirt, almost piercing the needle through the warm flesh on his chest.

“Money.”

San scoffed and sat down next to his friend, feet propped on the counter top. “I don’t have any money.”

“I wasn’t talking about _your_ money.” Mingi turned around and with his elbow resting on the counter he looked at his friend. “So what did you eat this time, hm? Lobster? Had some champagne? If the boss knew that you—”

“—Came to work twenty minutes late and drunk, he’d fire you instantly. I _know_ , Mingi, you say that every time and every time I tell you _what?”_

Now Mingi was the one to sigh. “That luckily the boss isn’t here and that you have such a good friend who would never snitch on you.”

“ _Because?”_

“Because snitches get...ditched?”

San rolled his eyes. “Stitches, Mingi. They get _stitches_.”

And the room fell silent again, the only noise left was the music and terrible singing coming from some of the rooms. San took out his phone and when he unlocked it a reminder that he only had ten percent left popped up on his display. No games tonight, he was ruined.

He decided to put his phone on the counter and instead watched his friend get ready to clock out. He envied him. He envied how Mingi could go home now and throw himself on his bed and just sleep and forget about the world for at least eight hours.

“Next time I won’t cover for you.” Mingi said while putting on his jacket, there was a stern look on his face that made San wonder if he’d ever seen him, like, genuinely smile. Sarcastic smiles didn’t count.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Sorry.” San replied, knowing very well that it wouldn’t be his last time being late and it also probably wouldn’t be the last time Mingi threatened to rat him out to their boss.

He liked Mingi.

“Don’t forget to lock up after your shift okay?” Mingi said while walking out of the door, then he turned around and looked at San. “Bye San.”

He smiled at him. “Bye.”

San plonked himself down on the uncomfortable chair that suddenly made him miss the ones in the fancy restaurant from before. He looked around, fidgeting with his thumbs while deciding whether he should get up to chase some work or whether he should just wait for it to come to him by itself. He looked down at his hands, his right thumb had won the war. God, he was bored.

“Uh.”

San blinked and looked up just to glance into the eyes of a handsome looking young man in a school uniform. The white fabric of the shirt stuck to his torso because it seemed to be wet and it exposed the peachy color of his skin. San stood up.

“We accidentally spilled a drink.” His voice was a lot deeper than San would've guessed it to be judging from his looks. There was absolutely no emotion in his voice and it confused San, it was like looking at his past self through a mirror.

“I’ll take care of it.” San said before he grabbed a bucket with cleaning supplies and walked into the direction the boy had come from. When he looked over his shoulder he noticed that the boy followed him closely, hands shoved deep down into the pockets of his loose trousers, his walk laid-back and cool. He was a smoker, San could smell it. He even felt the urge to offer him a shirt but then he remembered he didn’t have a spare one with him and he certainly couldn't give him his expensive suit jacket. He chose to stay quiet.

There were five students in the stuffy room, all of them in their pretty uniforms but none of them seemed to have noticed San when he entered. Their loud and heated conversations just kept going, making San feel like a ghost in the dark room without air to breathe. 

They had spilled the drink all over the leather sofa and the floor and it had already started to dry and get sticky. San only barely managed not to swear in front of those _innocent_ kids when he saw the mess. He wondered if they actually spilled it or if someone threw the soda can. At least they told him, at least they didn’t leave this as a little surprise for him to find after they had been long gone. 

“Hey man, I can see through your shirt, you pervert!” A femal voice rang in San’s ears and he was wondering why she was screaming so loudly when they weren’t playing any music and the boy she was talking to only stood half a foot away from her. “Are you trying to impress someone, hm?”

Her comments got the other girl next to her giggling and San was wondering if she had a crush on the boy with the low voice. He seemed like the typical heart breaker. But could he even blame him?

San managed to clean up the mess, even the sofa was all sparkly which really relieved San. As long as his boss didn’t notice the sugary soda smell on it everything was fine. He dropped the rag into the little bucket and searched the room to see if he’d overlooked something.

And then he saw something sweet in his field of vision, something sparkly and expensive. It was a silver D1 Milano wristwatch, a chronograph, lying in a pool of soda on the table and smiling at him. It wasn’t a very expensive one, San estimated it to be a model of a little over 500,000 won, not really the type he would choose to wear but it was great if you wanted to make some simple cash quickly.

Wristwatches were something special, almost like his guilty pleasure. Seeing this watch sit around like this in such a vulnerable and fragile state got his blood pressure up, made his hands all shaky. Little voices in his head told him to just take it, quickly and soundless with his long and skinny fingers. No one would notice, right? An opportunity like this was rare, chances are low that something like this would happen to him again and the last time San had gotten his hands on a beautiful wristwatch was long ago, too long. He wanted it, even though it almost wasn’t worth the trouble for what he would get for it later on. He wouldn't even want to keep it for himself, he had watches at home―watches that were a lot more expensive than this thing.

But it was an incentive, a little drug. It looked like it wanted to come with San and be warmed inside his comfortable pocket while cuddling with the Starbucks loyalty card. San _wanted_ it. 

He put down the bucket, his fingers reached for the little guy. It snuggled into his palm so softly like a bird that has fallen out of its nest, like it was made for San’s wrist. The steel was cold on his skin and San liked it, he felt the need to warm it.

“Hey, what’re you doing?”

Suddenly the noises around him stopped, suddenly San turned visible. Had someone snatched his cloak of invisibility? If so, he wanted it back immediately.

But five pairs of eyes were staring at him with the watch still in his hand and his fingertips caressing the cold steel strap. His eyes met those of the boy with the wet shirt and his voice was firm and demanding. He’d caught San red-handed.

“Sorry?” San pointed at the little pool of soda that the watch had been bathing in. “I’m cleaning.”

He saw the boy’s jaw clench, a thick vein appeared along his neck. For a moment he was fidgeting with his hands until he snatched his watch and hurriedly put it around his wrist. A butterfly clasp. There was no way he would be able to steal it from his wrist without him noticing. Even if he’d manage to open it, he’d have to pull that boy’s whole hand through it and he already got his guard up. Not even a magic trick could help. If he noticed that his watch was missing he would exactly know where to look for it and whom to accuse. It was hopeless, San had to accept his defeat. 

“You might want to clean it. That’s soda. If it dries it’s gonna feel―”

“Just focus on cleaning the table okay?” The boy snapped at him but San noticed the disgusted expression when the wet watch touched his skin. “I can take care of my things.”

San chuckled to himself. He was wondering if he and the boy were absolutely nothing alike or if he was practically just an older version of him. He really couldn't tell.

As soon as he turned to clean the table, he got invisible again. The gazes turned away, their conversations continued from where they had left off and San felt a big wave of disappointment flood his body, making it hard for him to think of anything else but the watch. He caught himself looking at it a few times from across the room and he decided that he liked how it sparkled when the different lights hit it. The fact that he’d failed to steal it made him want it even more, and he was mad at himself because he could’ve stolen it if he hadn’t been so rash. It was embarrassing how miserably he had failed, as though it was his first time doing it.

The more he thought about the watch the more it seemed to him like it was made out of pure gold, decorated with little diamonds. San couldn’t deal with that.

And even after he left the room and when this pressing feeling of disappointment vanished, he just couldn’t stop thinking about the little watch. 

  
  
  


It was almost three in the morning when he could finally close the doors. There were people still walking around, being all giggly or suspiciously quiet and San seriously thought about hitting the clubs or going for a drink at a bar nearby. He would go alone and without shame, he even preferred being without other people but he was _exhausted._ And it wasn’t because of work but because his hands were empty, no watch on his wrist. If he went to a club or a bar now he would see all those other beautiful shiny things, things he would love to get his hands on and add to his collection. He would go crazy, lose his mind, and then he would end up making a mistake. _Another_ one. He couldn’t risk that, not again.

And he did have cold beer at home. 

Somehow San managed to make a 30 minute walk out of the ten minutes he usually needed from the karaoke bar to his apartment. If someone asked him directly, he wouldn’t admit it but while on his way he was desperately looking for something sparkly, something of value and yet he saw nothing. But what did he expect to find in an area like this, where neighbors were fighting about who’s poorer than the other? Maybe he was hoping for some kind of wonder to happen on this warm night. 

He took out the butterfly knife and with his hand wrapped around the safety handle flipped it over the back of his hand, the cold metal felt refreshing on his warm skin and reminded him of the watch. He sighed and repeated the little trick over and over, challenging the butterfly to a feverish dance. He let it spin around his thumb, the swift movements hypnotised San in a soothing way. He felt grounded again.

When he reached the apartment complex he flipped the knife back up, closed it and shoved it back into its little nest inside San’s pocket where it was safe and sound. He took the stairs on the outside of the building to walk up all the way to the roof where he had his little fortress. 

But something was different that night. He could hear music. It wasn’t loud so he couldn’t even complain about it without appearing like an old grumpy neighbor, but the choice of music was indeed questionable. There were no words, no message in the song. All it did was spit out three thousand different types of seemingly random beats that didn’t go well with each other at all. Maybe it was San’s fault for having called it _music_. The weird thing about it was, however, that he’d never heard this kind of music in their apartment complex before and since it was full of geezers and old-fashioned aunties, none of them would even think of putting on _noises_ like that. 

But then things slowly started to make sense when someone appeared in San’s field of vision. The bright yellow sweatshirt was too big for him and it swayed through the wind like leaves falling from trees with every movement he made, no matter how subtle or smoothe they were. Like a ballerina he spun in a circle and danced to the music like it was a piece by Tchaikovsky and San watched him as though he was watching Bolshoi ballet. 

His curious eyes followed him closely, his eyebrows lifted and mouth slightly apart. He could even hear his own heartbeat resonate in his ears and it seemed to have adopted the incomprehensible and chaotic rhythm of the music playing in the background. It was uneven and trembling. 

The boy’s swift movements and how his hair fell into his eyes and into all the different directions hypnotised San more than his butterfly had ever managed to do, leaving him with a weird sensation of confusion and curiosity. And then, when the boy noticed San standing in the corner on the last step he stopped in motion and with his head tilted and a lollipop between his puffy lips he stared at him. The expression on his face was curious but warm. 

He puffed out air to get rid of the strand of hair that kept their eyes from meeting and saying hello to each other for the first time. He seemed to be sweating, his forehead was glistening in the warm light of the lamps on the roof and he shoved the sleeves of his bright sweatshirt over his elbows. Its color was almost sickening to San, making him feel dizzy.

And then suddenly his lips curled into a smile so contagious and inevitable that it felt as though San was forced to smile back, not even standing a chance to fight it.

But somehow, like an evil magnet his eyes traced along the boy's pale arms and down to his wrist. San’s eyes sparkled, the watch was long forgotten.

Instead he saw a little bracelet waving at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wellll I hope you enjoyed the first chapter!!  
> Thank you for leaving comments and kudos, making me bluuuush!!  
> 
> 
> Your PoeticMilk♡ 
> 
> Follow me on Twitter ([OhPoeticMilk](https://twitter.com/OhPoeticMilk)) for more updates!  
> Or ask me something on CuriousCat ([OhPoeticMilk](https://curiouscat.me/OhPoeticMilk))  
> And listen to the official playlist for LDITW [here!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0Wc0xQKJxd4OLBJjXlOU3Y?si=0vRgHEA_Rhqd_QrtT-xVpQ)


	2. ɪɪ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all!! I'm back with a new chapter (that turned out a litter longer than expected..) BUT! I hope everyone enjoys! Thank you for the positive feedback on the first chapter ><♡ You guys are the best!
> 
> Have fun reading!

❊ • ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴅᴀɴᴅᴇʟɪᴏɴꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴᴅ • ❊

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪɪ

Glistening in the warm light was a green little emerald that had caught San’s eyes. He’d spotted it from a distance, had fallen in love with it immediately after it smiled at him so shyly. It was indeed love at first sight for the both of them, he thought. He sensed how the little bracelet longed for San’s soft touch and wanted to hug his wrist and San wanted to hold it in his hands, touch its green surface with his rough fingers. The wrist watch from earlier was nothing compared to it, was long forgotten, so much that San almost forgot its make and color. The bracelet was something else entirely, sweeter, and almost atypical for a man to wear and that’s part of its charm.

He believed it to be quite expensive so it was a little confusing to see it around the thin and pale wrist of this young boy who looked like he drank three cans of coke or sprite a day and played indie games all day long while secretly letting a Britney Spears playlist run in the background. He probably knew the lyrics to all of her songs, probably had chosen _Oops!...I Did It Again_ as his personal theme song. San was eager to argue that the bracelet didn’t suit him at all, but at the same time it seemed to fit him all the better. His interpretation about the boy also could have been wrong, maybe he was a rich kid who only had expensive bracelets and insisted that these otherworldly sounds of randomly arranged noises was music that only a very narrow selection of people could understand―and yet he was here, dancing sweetly on the rooftop of this sleazy building with cracks in the walls and flickering lights. 

“Are you eventually gonna say something?” The boy mumbled with his lollipop clenched between his teeth. The tone of his voice was bold but not meant to be mean and yet it annoyed San for no reason.

“No.” He replied, eliciting an amused laugh from the boy that San didn’t mean to hear. Instead, he’d been flirting with Little Miss Emerald, that was her name, and it was going well. He really didn’t want to be interrupted, it could ruin their little moment. 

“Sorry, is the music too loud?” The boy looked behind him to a little music box and folded his arms so that Little Miss Emerald disappeared between the folds of the bright yellow sweatshirt he was wearing. San felt the urge to reach for the bracelet as though it would miraculously make it come back to him, as though it was his own. He felt having witnessed how Princess Peach got kidnapped by Bowser and the yellow shirt that the boy was wearing looked like the star bonus that could make you invincible.

It left San wondering whether the shirt made the boy or his bracelet invincible and he wasn’t sure which one he feared more.

“That’s music?” San walked up to his apartment door, searching for the keys in one of his pockets. “Thought you were trying to get in contact with aliens.”

He could hear him chuckle behind his back, San was surprised that he wasn’t offended by what he had said.

“Nah, we use other methods to communicate.”

San turned his head to him, the expression on the boy’s face suggested that he’d just told the best joke ever, the pride his smile contained was impossible to ignore, you could say it was almost adorable. It seemed as though he was waiting for validation.

“Do you live here?” San asked almost accusingly as he turned around again and crossed his arms, mimicking the other’s body language. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“We moved in earlier today.” The boy now walked up to him, his arms unfolded so he could hold up his right hand before San. There she was again, his new love, looking at him and batting her eyelashes so seductively. He’d fallen for her entirely and he could feel his heart beating vigorously in his chest, heard it pumping in his ears almost like a whisper that told him to just grab it, to take it with force if necessary. He knew that if he gave the boy his hand he wouldn’t be able to contain himself. 

So instead he just stood there, staring at the little fingers pointing at him and the bracelet that he could examine a bit better now. It was an elegant and thin silver bracelet with little green emeralds and a bigger one in the middle. Now that San could see it from up close, he noticed that the big emerald was actually an arrangement of smaller ones that formed a little flower. He found it beautiful. He let his eyes wander around the boy’s wrist and along the bracelet until he saw the tiny lobster clasp. All he needed was for his thumb to unhinge it with one precise movement and it would be his.

“Oh, come on.” The boy took advantage of San’s distraction and grabbed his right hand, shaking it so energetically that San feared he might get his arm ripped off. But his wide eyes were fixed at the dangling bracelet that the boy was harassing with his harsh movements, so much that it almost hurt San’s heart a little, the heart that was there, somewhere hidden inside his rib cage. 

When San looked up at him, there still was this smile lingering on the boy’s lips, then the shaking stopped but somehow he didn’t let go of San’s hand. “I’m Wooyoung. Jung Wooyoung. And you?”

Maybe if San didn’t look down at the little flower bracelet, it wouldn't hurt as much.

“Choi San,” he said, almost absentmindedly. 

Then he finally let go and San felt a spear pierce through his back, boring through his flesh and bones and leaving him to bleed out. He and his love were ripped apart and the arm she was wrapped around disappeared inside Wooyoung’s pocket and out of San’s reach. His eyes started to burn, almost as though they were preparing to flood his cheeks with tears. A feeling of anger and disappointment overcame him once again, all he wanted now was to pass out on his couch for ten or more hours.

“You live here?” Wooyoung pointed behind San, notably with his left hand, and at the closed door. San could only sigh.

“No, my evil twin lives there.” He couldn't help but roll his eyes a little and even though he’d meant to say those words sarcastically, the tone of his voice sounded firm, almost as though he wished for the evil twin to be real. He turned around, inserted the key into the lock and turned it a couple of times.

“I thought _you_ were the evil one?”

San stopped in motion, thinking for a moment. Would he be the evil twin if he really had one? Would San be the one to force his twin to call him _hyung,_ simply because he was born five minutes earlier?

San quickly got rid of these thoughts and sighed as he opened the door. When he turned around again, he saw how Wooyoung was still grinning at him. He really, _really_ didn’t understand what the deal was with this kid. “Listen. Communicate with your alien buddies all you want, just leave me alone.”

“Aye, aye, captain!” Wooyoung exclaimed, saluting him. San couldn't help but roll his eyes _again,_ shaking his head in partial confusion and partial speechlessness. Then he stepped inside his tiny apartment, ignoring the little _good night_ he heard from behind and closed the door, leaving Wooyoung all alone while at the same time finding himself in a dark and messy apartment. It was even darker than outside, during the dead of night, and San could barely see the outlines of his furniture. Somehow he felt cold. He turned to the door, looking at it as though it was a window through which he could see Wooyoung. Closing the door on him felt like watching the sun go down, temperatures dropping drastically. San decided that the sole reason for feeling this way about Wooyoung was because of his bright yellow shirt. If he hadn’t worn it, San wouldn't have been feeling this way for sure.

He made his way across the living room to his fridge that was covered with photos, sticky notes from weeks ago and magnets. There was a Magneton magnet, which he found pretty hilarious and that he’d pinched from a store that sold all kinds of anime merch. He must’ve been around twelve years old that time and somehow this little guy was one of his favorite souvenirs. It was one of his earliest treasures. The colors had already started to fade after all those years, but San only found himself loving it more and more. He wondered how long it would take for the colors to fade entirely.

He grabbed himself a cold beer and let two packs of ramen noodles soak in boiling water. He carried everything to his living room, sat down on his sofa and watched the black TV screen so attentively you could almost think he was watching the most exciting soccer game ever, except San didn’t like watching sports.

He would be lying if he said he couldn’t hear the music from outside, but he’d also be lying if he said that it was bothering him. Somehow, even though the music sounded like someone was boring a hole into the ground with a drill (and he meant the really big ones, those that the villains in animation movies would use to destroy a whole city), it had an awkwardly soothing effect on him. He wondered if that was the reason for Wooyoung dancing to that kind of music. It made him feel as though he wasn’t alone, it gave him the impression of being home together with his parents that would comfort him if he woke up from an awful nightmare. It was almost as though he knew that someone was watching over him, like a little guardian angel. 

And what if that effect was solely because of Little Miss Emerald?

San’s eyes jumped to the beer can that had just the same color as his new treasure. With his fingers he wiped across the cold surface and connected the water drops that had formed on it. Oh, how he wished to get his hands on the sweet bracelet, how he wished to decorate his own wrist with it so he could stare at it for hours and hours. Knowing that it was out there, so close and yet so far, was driving him crazy. He knew that if he ever wanted to sleep quietly again, he needed Miss Emerald. 

  
  
  


San was wearing a big grin on his face when he watched his friend try to hit the ball that came shooting in his direction at threateningly high speed. When he missed for the third time in a row, San couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore.

“Ah, fuck this,” his friend hissed, throwing the bat to the ground. When he walked out of the cage, he noticed San and rolled his eyes at the sight of his big grin. “I swear I’m gonna erase that smile of yours with that bat if you don’t stop.”

San’s laughing only got louder, feeling absolutely not intimidated by his friend’s threat. Instead, he put his hand on his shoulder in an empty effort to comfort him. “Maybe you should try playing Dodgeball?”

Yeosang said nothing but just rolled his eyes again and San feared his friend might get dizzy if he kept doing that. He leaned his back against the protective wire divider between the batting cage and the lounging area with the chairs and the little table, watching his friend open a coca cola can with a loud hiss. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his thin jacket and noticed a lonely cigarette in one of them, the tobacco had already scattered inside. He must’ve forgotten it quite a while ago.

Unlike yesterday, San wasn’t wearing fancy clothes. He had his ripped jeans on, a white shirt and a thin blue jacket that he _bought_ years ago. It wasn’t just out of fashion, it also looked pretty shabby and dirty, but San couldn’t bring himself to throw it out simply because he’d paid for it with money, his _own_ money.

“So?” He then asked, playing with the old cigarette. “I don’t think you asked me to come here just to see how miserable you are at hitting a ball. Or well, how good you are at _not_ hitting a ball, depending on how you see it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh all you want,” Yeosang said, putting down the can. But to San’s surprise, there was a triumphant smile on his face, a proud one, so much that you could think he just hit a perfect score in the game. “I bet you’ll be laughing out of the other side of your face when you see this baby.”

San attentively watched how Yeosang searched one of his back pockets until he held out a necklace before him, a gold dainty one with a sun-shaped pendant that was beset with diamonds. San’s jaw unclenched and slowly dropped, his hands pulled out from inside his dirty pockets and he quickly got rid of the nasty tobacco on his fingers by rubbing them clean on his pants. Then he stepped forward, slowly and carefully, and reached for the pretty necklace with his greedy fingers. He knew that Yeosang was grinning at him like an idiot but San didn’t care at all, his mind was too occupied with getting over the tenderness of the sweet accessory. He carefully took the pendant between thumb and pointer finger, tracing along its smooth surface with his rough fingertips. He adored it.

“Where…” San asked, clearing his throat and quickly forcing his hands off the bracelet, otherwise he couldn’t promise he would let go of it ever again. “Where did you get this from?”

Yeosang chuckled and turned his hand so the frontside of the bracelet would face him. There was the same sparkle in his eyes that San had, too.

“I was clubbing yesterday, was pretty wild,” he lowered his hand with the necklace, San’s eyes followed it curiously as though looking at it would show him Yeosang’s story like a flashback in a movie. “I hadn’t actually noticed this beauty until I saw a girl emptying her drink on I believe her _now_ ex-boyfriend’s head. Probably was cheating on her with some other chick, but that’s when I saw the necklace. Gosh, the way it sparkled in the many lights inside the club, San, let me tell you.”

San quickly nodded, he was fully immersed in Yeosang’s tale. He could understand his feelings perfectly, could imagine everything he said as though he’d been there himself and yet he was jealous that Yeosang had seen this pretty necklace dance for him in the spotlight of the club while San had been busy cleaning up sticky soda.

“The girl went crying at the bar so I offered to buy her a drink even though she already seemed kinda wasted. She was pretty cute, honestly. Don’t know why that guy would cheat on her,” Yeosang shrugged, then continued with the story. “Anyways, we kept talking and drinking until she suddenly dozed off on my shoulder.”

“And then you took the necklace.”

Yeosang nodded. “Then I took the necklace. I ended up calling her a cab but her friends came and took her home.”

“You’re such a bad boy, Yeosang.” San said with a stern expression. “Playing with a crying girl’s broken heart just to get a stupid necklace.”

Both were staring at each other in silence for a minute, then they burst into hysterics. It took a while before they caught their breaths again and stopped laughing.

“I’m jealous, man.” San said, gazing at the necklace. “I missed the opportunity to get my hands on a pretty D1 Milano wrist watch yesterday at work. I was fucking pissed. The guy was 17 at best, wearing that thing like it was nothing and letting it soak in soda.”

San was gnawing at the inside of his cheek for a minute, saying nothing. His friend looked at him compassionately, knowing his struggle very well. There was no room for joking around now.

“You know, and just when I had forgotten about the watch, this stupid kid comes along with an _emerald_ bracelet.” San looked at Yeosang, his eyebrows elevated, ears listening attentively. “He said he just moved into the apartment building where I live. I need it.”

“Yup, I know.” Yeosang grinned. “I’d help you, you know, but you chose your Han Solo life. Look at how many nice things we can steal with only our two magic hands. Now imagine our capabilities if we suddenly had four! No one could stop us.”

Yeosang was probably right, but San knew that it wouldn't go well for too long. He shook his head.

“I’m better off alone, bud.” He replied and Yeosang nodded but said nothing. San believed he understood him without San having to tell him why he didn’t want to go on stealing sprees with him the whole time. They sometimes did it for fun, and San loved Yeosang because he was his best friend, but he also couldn’t deny his love for sparkling stuff. Having someone else help him steal things that might be a challenge to get made them less desirable for him. And the fact that he would have to share the goods was unbearable. 

“So, what're you gonna do with the necklace? You gonna keep it?”

Yeosang shook his head. “Nah, don’t think so. I’m thinking about selling it. It’s gold, you know. Real diamonds. If you want it, I’m gonna give you a friend discount.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” San said, smiling. “But I’m gonna pass.”

San wasn’t sure if he would’ve sold the necklace if he had stolen it. Sometimes he didn’t want to get rid of stuff and just keep it instead. It was pretty and glistening, and while Yeosang was right about its value, it wouldn’t make him rich. It’s not easy to steal necklaces either, at least judging from San’s experience, so the fact that Yeosang was lucky enough to get into a situation where stealing it seemed fairly easy was amazing. San probably wouldn’t be able to just sell an item that was holding such a beautiful memory. Plus, he thought it to be incredibly pretty.

But because it wasn’t him who had stolen it, the necklace was pretty much worthless to him. It wasn’t much the looks of the things he was stealing but rather the challenge or the story behind getting them that made them so valuable to San. He knew, for example, that Little Miss Emerald wasn’t the most beautiful lady among the pretty bracelets in the world, but the fact that it was difficult to steal her made her stand out from all the other accessories. He believed that Wooyoung rarely took her off, which increased the risk, and even if he were able to steal her, he would have to be careful not to let Wooyoung catch him wear her on his wrist. He had a feeling that she was pretty important to him.

“You wanna play?” Yeosang then asked and San turned to look at the batting cage. He just shrugged and nodded at him. What did he have to lose? He couldn't be any worse than Yeosang and maybe it was a good way to relieve some stress or anger.

He walked into the cage and picked up the bat, waiting for the virtual player on the screen to count from three to one. A ball shot out from the hole in the middle of the screen and came flying into his direction. San took a big swing, using all the force he had to hit the ball and watched how it then flew back the way it had come, hitting the screen next to the little hole. He grinned, his head immediately turned to Yeosang who was sitting on one of the chairs, arms crossed, eyes judging him.

“You made it look really difficult,” San said, hitting the ball for a second time. Score. “But it’s actually pretty easy.”

“Hey San!” Yeosang said, his voice a little louder and firm. When San looked over to him, he was holding up his little treasure again. San looked at it, could hear the game count from three to one in the background, but the way the necklace was sparkling was hypnotising and calming. He couldn’t look away.

Only after he heard a loud _thud_ he flinched and looked behind him, just to see the ball rolling by his feet. He grunted, paying Yeosang an annoyed glance. Now it was his turn to laugh at San.

“That wasn’t fair, you know.” San said, getting out of the cage after the game was over. He snatched the coca cola can out of Yeosang’s hand and emptied it in one go. His friend just giggled. 

“Isn’t it time for you to start work soon?” Yeosang asked, looking at the clock on his phone.

“Nah,” San shook his head and tossed the empty can into the trash below the little table. “No work today.” 

“Well, I do.” Yeosang said, grabbing his stuff to leave. “I can’t steal a pretty necklace every day, am I right?”

San nodded with a grin on his face and he wondered how beautiful it would be if they could steal all kinds of expensive accessories every single day, making so much money it would pay their bills and more. Would it get boring some day? Would it deliberately make him want to stop? He couldn’t quite believe that.

Yeosang waved him goodbye and left the screen baseball center before him. San left shortly after. For a second he really thought about smoking the old cigarette inside his pocket, but after he took it out and observed it, he figured that his desire to smoke wasn’t that urgent after all. He threw it away. Instead he took out his little lighter, the yellow one, and flicked it a couple of times. Whenever he did that, he remembered how he used to be afraid of turning on Bic lighters. He always believed that he would burn the tip of his thumb, he used to scrunch up his face at the mere imagination. It always reminded him of middle school and the way his friends laughed at him when they found out that San couldn’t flick a lighter. He was so upset that day. In fact, he was so mad that he went home with a stolen lighter and sat there with it until it turned dark outside, until he had finally collected enough courage to turn it on.

Needless to say, he burnt his finger.

But somehow it wasn’t actually that bad. Ever since that day, San could flick a lighter―without hurting himself―and he’d also found a good friend. He’d grown so attached to his smiley face lighter that he learned how to refill it so he didn’t have to get a new one. He’d never stolen another lighter in his life.

“San?”

He stopped and smothered the tiny flame by releasing the button, then two silhouettes in front of him started to become clearer and clearer. There was this bright yellow color again, more blinding than the little flame. Suddenly his heart was beating incredibly fast.

When San came closer, he could see a smile on Wooyoung’s face. He wasn’t wearing the same sweater from the day before, instead it was another yellow one with a little black sun on the front and it said _SMILE_ in bold letters underneath it. San didn’t smile, but whatever. 

Next to Wooyoung stood Mingi, the one who had called him, and overtowered both of them with his height. At least Wooyoung seemed to be only as tall as San, so he didn’t feel as inferior as usually. It was a little odd to see them together.

“You two know each other?” San’s voice almost cracked, but only almost.

“Yeah, hi to you too, San.” Mingi said sarcastically but then nodded. “We went to school together.”

Wooyoung was staring at him with a smile so sincere and unbothered that it made San a little uncomfortable. It was as though he was reading San’s mind, as though he knew exactly what his intentions were. It creeped him out a little. Something was weird about Wooyoung. Surely San couldn’t help but notice his sweet girlfriend, Little Miss Emerald, winking at him and letting San’s heart skip a beat. Tonight she seemed even more beautiful than yesterday, but maybe it was just San’s growing desire for her that was tricking him. In his other hand, Wooyoung was holding a plastic bag and San just boldly assumed he had bought Ddeokbokki. He looked up again, Wooyoung was looking back. Gosh, did San have something on his face?

“Are you starting your shift now?” San then asked, evading Wooyoung’s thorough glance.

Mingi nodded. “Yeah. You’re lucky you have your day off. Oh, by the way, did you see my little water bottle yesterday? The steel one? I think I might’ve left it at work.”

“Uh, no. Haven’t seen it. But try and look again, I might not have noticed it lying around somewhere.” San _really_ didn’t know where his bottle was, he didn’t see the point in stealing stuff like that and besides, it could get him fired.

He giggled inwardly, _as though he cared_. 

“Alright. I gotta go now. Don’t wanna be late, right?” There it was, Mingi’s subliminally judging face that looked just like the one San’s mum used to make. He just looked away. “Was nice seeing you, Woo. Bye, San.”

Mingi lifted his hand, waved quickly before passing both of them and headed into the direction of the karaoke bar. San looked after him, then turned back to Wooyoung who was still staring at him.

“Going home?” He asked, San sighed but nodded. “Let’s go together.”

Even though San felt the pressing urge to turn around and go the opposite direction, just because he didn’t want to go home together with Wooyoung, he stayed. The sole reason being that this right now was a rare opportunity. Walking home with him in an area where not many people are around gave him the chance to, well, take a closer look at his prey. So instead of fleeing from him, San kept walking by his side as though they had been friends for years.

“So, is it the evil twin now?” Wooyoung asked and it took San a minute to understand his reference to their conversation yesterday. He actually smirked a little, still not knowing which twin he was.

“Well, I’m afraid I’m not really sure myself,” he said, looking at Wooyoung. In a way he feared that he was the evil one but at the same time it would make sense. San didn’t think of himself as a good person, maybe he didn’t even think of himself as a person at all.

“Whichever you might be, I just hope you’re the same guy from yesterday.”

San stopped for a second, but Wooyoung kept walking. There was something about him that made San think before speaking and usually he wasn’t even the guy with a lot of words.

“Why?” San then asked after catching up with him again. “Did you like me making fun of you?”

Wooyoung just laughed but he didn’t answer San’s question, which he found a little weird, almost mysterious. 

“So, you work at the karaoke bar together with Mingi?” he then asked after a couple of silent seconds. “Do you like it?”

San sighed and shrugged. “What’s there to like about? It’s just a job.”

“Are you a good singer?”

“No, I’m not.”

“A good dancer?”

San blinked, shaking his head again. “Negative.”

“I feel like you’re lying,” Wooyoung said and San first thought he was joking, but after looking at him he realized he was being serious. San’s mouth opened a little, he felt a cool breeze dry his wet lips, but no words came out. Instead he came to the conclusion that Wooyoung was a strange character, he felt invaded by the look of his eyes, no matter if he was wearing a smile or not. San decided to change the topic. 

“What about you? Do you work?”

Wooyoung nodded, a proud smile returned to his face. “I give dance classes. I’m mostly teaching kids and beginners though, I’m still kinda new to this.”

San just nodded back, thinking that this was probably the perfect job for him. He was wondering if he taught the kids how to dance to that weird alien music from yesterday.

“It’s my dream to be a choreographer for the big people, you now? Entertainment industry. I think I can make it, I’m really good.” Wooyoung said, his eyes were glistening just the same way San’s glistened every time he saw something he wanted to steal. “I can dance almost anything, but I like hip hop the best. I can even b-boy a little.”

San had no idea about dancing or what b-boying was, but it must’ve been something impressive. San really wasn’t into dancing, but he was always impressed by people who could dance well.

They kept walking, both thinking the thoughts that came to their minds without saying them out loud, having a conversation with themselves. Weirdly enough, it wasn’t awkward like San had imagined. It was almost a little calming or therapeutic. Maybe it was just the weather, though, maybe it was Little Miss Emerald’s presence. 

He looked down at Wooyoung’s wrist, saw the little bracelet dangling and wiggling with the movement of his arm. It made San smile, he kept imagining how it might feel on his own skin. Would she make any noise if he shook his wrist vigorously?

“We moved here because my mum got a new job. At first I didn’t wanna come with her but it turned out that the studio I’m dancing at is actually closer from here than from where I lived before.”

San looked up again with a feeling of having gotten caught staring at his wrist for too long, but he couldn’t help it. He just kept looking.

“What does your mum do?” San asked, but really he just asked out of sudden politeness, not out of curiosity. He didn’t really care about Wooyoung’s family or even about Wooyoung, but if he was busy talking, San could continue watching Miss Emerald dance without it being too obvious.

“Oh, she’s a massage therapist. She works at one of these parlours and let me tell you, she gives the best massages.”

San’s eyes shot up, looking at Wooyoung who was gazing at the sky that was covered in millions and millions of stars. Did he really believe she was a massage therapist? As far as San knew, all the massage parlours in this area were only massage parlours from the outside and the only body parts that weren't being massaged in there were your back or shoulders. San wasn’t sure if Wooyoung really didn’t know or if he just pretended that he didn’t, and San couldn’t even say which option he was hoping for. Maybe it was just his way of coping. 

San gulped, offering Wooyoung a little nod that he didn’t even notice. “I bet she does.”

Wooyoung just kept smiling. His innocence, played or not, made San feel sad in the most comfortable way ever. It was almost a good feeling, maybe even a little addictive. It seemed so pure to him, so much that it felt like his soul was being cleansed just by being around Wooyoung. And they had only known each other for less than two days. But this was something entirely new to him and he didn't understand it. He firmly told himself that he didn't like Wooyoung, that was simply what he told himself whenever he met a new person, but somehow being around him felt good, even if San was trying to resist.

But San was blinded by the power of Wooyoung’s bracelet, and he firmly believed that it was the sole reason behind this beautiful feeling when he was around Wooyoung. And he knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off it. The problem was that San believed that Wooyoung was wearing Miss Emerald every day, every night, maybe even while showering. There was no way for him to steal her if not by directly removing her from his wrist. 

And the sooner he did it, the better it was.

San saw the apartment building draw closer which signalled him that he had to do it now or never. He knew he wouldn’t be able to close his eyes for just a second if he didn’t have the bracelet around his wrist. 

He watched Wooyoung and his mellow movements. It seemed as though a meteor could hit the ground right next to him and he would just keep on smiling, continuing his relaxed walk. Nothing could disturb his calm, nothing could shake him or rip that smile off his face. That’s how he seemed to San, so much that it was almost a little sickening.

“So,” San started, putting a charming smile on his face. Wooyoung looked at him a little confused, maybe it was a bit too much. “How do you like it here so far?”

He came a little closer, there was some shoulder rubbing, Wooyoung didn’t seem to care.

“Uh,” he said, nodding slowly. “Nice, so far. I feel like lots of nice people live here. And it’s cool that I’m closer to Mingi now, too.”

San nodded, having heard absolutely nothing besides _bracelet, bracelet, bracelet._ He looked down at Wooyoung’s wrist, the bracelet didn’t seem too tight around it. Due to Wooyoung’s movement, the clasp had turned to the front—this was San’s sign.

He quickly grabbed Wooyoung’s wrist, pulling him a little closer. “Damn, how could I forget? Have you been to one of the bars here yet? Since you were in school with Mingi, you should be old enough to drink, right?”

San’s voice was louder than usual, Wooyoung was visibly confused by his engagement into the conversation, but confusion was San’s best friend, his accomplice.

“Uh, no, I haven’t...yet,” Wooyoung said, making eye contact with San as though it would tell him the reason behind his shift in behaviour. But it didn’t, obviously. “Can you recommend some?”

Wooyoung’s innocence was delightful. While he was asking his questions, San moved his pointer finger to his thumb, taking the little lobster clasp between the two fingers. He pretended to be thinking for a second while tucking the tiny lever underneath his fingernail. When he realized that he got it, he continued his deceitful act.

“Oh! I know!” he exclaimed, taking his free hand to give Wooyoung a firm pat on his shoulder. At the same time he pulled back the lever and freed Miss Emerald from Wooyoung’s wrist. He let go of him, secured his treasure inside his fist and let both of his hands sink into his pockets. “There’s this really good one I always go to with my friends. It’s very close to the karaoke bar. Mingi knows it too, maybe he can take you one time.”

San kept walking while having a hard time holding back his grin. Just now he realized how much his heart was beating against his rib cage, trying to jump out of it. With his fingers he traced along the cold silver, felt the surface of the neatly polished gems. Goosebumps crawled up his sleeve and across his back, he felt like shouting out his happiness. He couldn’t wait to show it to Yeosang, his eyes were going to fall out of his sockets.

“San?”

He stopped, was brought back into reality. San didn’t even notice how Wooyoung had stopped walking. They had almost reached the apartment building—San’s evil headquarters, his safe space. But when he turned around, there was an expression on Wooyoung’s face that gave San a shudder. Not because he looked upset or mad, but because the tiny, calm smile on his face seemed extremely eerie. San couldn’t even answer before Wooyoung opened his mouth again.

“Are you gonna give it back to me?”

**Author's Note:**

> Wellll I hope you enjoyed this chapter!!  
> Thank you for leaving comments and kudos, making me bluuuush!!  
> 
> 
> Your PoeticMilk♡ 
> 
> Follow me on Twitter ([OhPoeticMilk](https://twitter.com/OhPoeticMilk)) for more updates!  
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